Wake up and smell the... oh, nevermind.

There's this show called "So You Think You Can Dance" that Nic and I love. It kept us up til midnight last night so when I finally went to bed I slept so deeply that I don't remember waking up even once, which is a miracle in my house. So this morning I was in the middle of this incredibly realistic dream in which I had lied to a salon in Tonopah saying I had been to beauty school. I was about to perform my first fraudulent haircut on a red headed woman. I was washing her hair with bath and body works hand soap...hoping she wouldn't notice I wasn't using shampoo when in the nebulous backround of my conciousness I heard a faint little voice saying, "poooooooop...poooooop." Then it got louder. Pooooooooooop. Pooooooooooooooooooop!. POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!!!!!!! I finally woke up totally confused as to why I was no longer in the salon. I stumbled into the nursery and there was Evan standing in his crib. Then, so sheepishly as if he were a blushing belle on a Georgian plantation, he delicately pointed to his diaper and cooed, "poop." So we took care of that business...brought him in bed to nurse praying he would go back to sleep. Then in comes Afton saying, "THERE'S AN EMERGENCY!" Nic sproinged out of bed still totally asleep like a rattle snake that has had it's head already cut off but still tries to strike. Afton pulls him into the kitchen and I hear a little moan. I refuse to open my eyes and am just glad it wasn't me in the kitchen addressing "the emergency". Then Afton comes in to my room and says, "Raisin just pooed the hugest, hugest poop right under Evan's booster chair." Needless to say, I've had better mornings, but I love my husband. He didn't even call for backup and I got a few more minutes of stinkin' sleep.